


Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid - But Apparently Angels Do

by onlybritainisgreat (frecklesarechocolate)



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/onlybritainisgreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's clothing is going missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid - But Apparently Angels Do

Dean rifled through his duffle, a puzzled expression on his face. "Have you seen my jacket, Sammy?"

Sam paused in his own packing and resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at the nickname that Dean _insisted_ on using. "Which one?"

"The green one. With all the pockets. I wore it yesterday." Dean lifted up the quilt on the bed. Finding nothing, he then opened the closet to peer inside. Greeted by empty hangers, he made a small irritated noise.

Sam shrugged. "Haven't seen it."

Dean stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. "You sure?"

"Yes, Dean. It's not like I'd lie about it. I don't even like that jacket." Sam zipped up his duffle and headed toward the door. "Maybe it's in the car."

Dean nodded, distracted. Since he was also eager to get on the road, he decided not to waste any more time on the jacket. Sam was right, it probably was in the car. He let his eyes sweep over the room one last time before grabbing his bag and heading out to the car.

  

* * *

Two days later, the jacket still hadn't shown up: it wasn't in the Impala, and now it looked as if one of his shirts was also missing. This was particularly frustrating, because they hadn't had the chance to do laundry in a while, and it was one of his only remaining clean shirts. Dean had the entire contents of his duffle emptied out on the bed, and was methodically going through the clothing. He muttered to himself, so focused on his task that he didn't hear Castiel's arrival in the room. Dean turned to look in the closet and ran smack into the angel, losing his balance.

Cas's arms went around Dean's waist to prevent him from falling, and when Dean gained his footing, he smiled. "Hey Cas. If you wanted to hold me, all you had to do was ask. No need to go and make me fall." 

Cas smirked at Dean and tightened his arms around Dean, pulling him closer so they were chest to chest. "Hm," he said as he reached up and kissed Dean lightly on the chin, and then moved his lips so they slotted against Dean's. They stood kissing for several long moments until Cas pulled away breathing heavily, eyes dark as he gazed at Dean. 

Dean leaned his forehead against Cas's. "Hi," he whispered, smiling. No matter how often they stood like this, arm in arm, he was still blown away by the fact that Cas, this man, no, this angel, could want him, Dean Winchester. The very thought that Cas was even remotely interested in something so human as kissing and holding each other reduced Dean to awed whispers every time he saw Cas.

Cas chuckled softly, squeezing Dean gently. "You said that already."

"Did I?" Dean said as he captured Cas's lips again. Cas let Dean take the lead for a moment. Dean was content to just kiss Cas softly like this, just lips, enjoying the brief hints of the flavor that was so essentially Cas - light and airy and yet smoky at the same time. Sometimes when their lips met like this, Dean felt as if he'd touched a plasma globe, sparks of electricity shooting through him beginning at his lips and heading out in all directions throughout his body.

After another few minutes, Cas pulled away, and for the first time, noticed the mess of clothing and toiletries and miscellaneous shoes on the bed. "Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean asked, not really paying attention. He was grazing his lips along Cas's jawline now, hoping that he might encourage Cas to do more than just kiss.

"Why are all your clothes on the bed?" Cas stepped out of Dean's arms and surveyed the room. He ignored the disappointed sound Dean made in favor of asking his next question. "And on the floor?"

Dean sighed. It looked like he was going to have to actually answer Cas's questions before the chance for anything else to happen arose. "I'm looking for my shirt." He paused. "And my jacket."

Cas turned to examine the bed more carefully, studiously avoiding Dean's gaze. "There are several shirts here, Dean." He picked up one spectacularly dirty specimen and held it between his finger and thumb, a slight expression of distaste on his face. "This one could use a wash, though."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Dean said, swiping the shirt away from Cas. "That one is covered in ectoplasm because of that ghost haunting _you_ told us about."

The edges of Cas's lips twitched a bit at that, remembering how Dean had somehow managed to get covered just about head to toe in ectoplasm after managing to fight and eventually salt and burn the ghost that had been haunting the tiny town of Sea Cliff, New York. Somehow, Dean had become the focus of all of the ghost's rage, and had, unfortunately, paid dearly for it.

Dean scowled. "You could at least look like you felt a little bit bad about it."

Cas made a humming noise, and returned his attention to the clothing strewn about the room. "So, why are you looking for a shirt, exactly?"

Dean grunted. "It's not just any shirt, it's a specific one. Help me look for it, will ya?" He bumped his hip against Cas's in a small sign of affection.

"Okay. Which shirt are we looking for?" Cas began to pick through a rather large pile of shirts.

"Plaid."

Cas stopped and stared at Dean, a plaid shirt in each hand. "Dean. Most of your shirts are plaid. Do you think you could be a bit more specific?"

Dean snorted. "Brown."

Cas waited. When no more description came, he said. "And?"

"Uh. Dark brown stripes, white background? I don't know. I'll know it when I see it." Dean continued to rifle through one pile of clothing. When he was satisfied that the shirt he was looking for wasn't in it, he turned to another pile closer to Cas. He started to smile at the angel, but it froze on his lips as he stared. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" Cas asked.

"You're wearing my shirt." He paused. "And my jacket. I've been looking for that jacket for two days!"

Cas looked down at himself. "This is more tan than dark brown, Dean. And why didn't you ask about the jacket? I would have returned it if I'd known you were looking for it."

"Why are you wearing them at all?" Dean asked after a moment of stunned silence. 

Cas hesitated, and then shrugged. "They smell like you."

"Oh." He took a moment to look at Cas, really look at him, and decided that he liked seeing the angel in his clothes. The jacket was just slightly too big in the shoulders, and the plaid shirt hung low over Cas's slim hips. "Are those my jeans too?"

Cas shook his head. "No, your jeans are too big on me."

Dean laughed. "But you tried them on, obviously."

"Of course."

"Come here." Dean pulled Cas into his arms. "Two questions. How many other pieces of my clothing do you have, and am I going to get any of them back?"

Cas buried his face in Dean's shoulder and let out a small contented sigh. "I think I have at least two other shirts. And maybe."

Dean thought that he could live with that, and said as much. "But you're helping me do laundry."


End file.
